Magic Strikes(44)
sharp. So I took a shower, scrubbing every square inch of my skin and hair with scented soap to kill
the smell of Jim's posse, ate cold beef with black bread, tomato, and a little cheese, took a much-
prized and expensive aspirin, and passed out.
I awoke at eight because my phone rang. I raised my head off my pillow and stared at it. It rang
and rang, filling my head with noise. The answering machine came on and a familiar voice made
me sit straight up.
«Kate.»
Curran. Oy. Two hours of sleep wasn't sufficient to deal with him.
«Call me as soon as you can.»
I picked up the phone. «I'm here.»
«You're screening your calls?»
«Why not? It saves me from conversation with idiots.»
«Is that an insult?» His voice dropped into a deep growl.
«You're not an idiot,» I told him. «You're just a deadly psychopath with a god complex. What is
it you want?»
«Have you seen Jim?»
«Nope.»
«He didn't call you?»
«Nope.» But his goons beat the daylights out of me.
«What about Derek?»
«Nope. Haven't seen him either.»
There was a momentary pause. «You're lying.»
Shit. «Now what would make you think that?»
«You didn't ask me if Derek is okay, Kate.»
That will teach me to have delicate diplomatic conversations first thing in the morning.
«That's because I don't care. You told me you'd bring me in on the investigation. You promised
me full cooperation and interviews. That was Friday morning. It's Sunday now. Forty-eight hours
have passed. You blew me off, Curran. Just like always. Because you expect me to trip over my feet
in a rush to help you, but the precious Pack can't cooperate with outsiders. What you hear in my
voice is apathy.» And bullshit. Lots and lots of bullshit.
«You're rambling.»
Curran two, Kate zero.
«This is very important, Kate. Jim defied me. He's refused a direct order to pull his crew in. I
can't let it stand. He has seventy-two hours to decide what to do. Then I'll have to find him.»
«You've known Jim for years. Doesn't he get the benefit of the doubt?»
«Not for this.» The hard shell on Curran's voice broke. The alpha vanished for a moment,
leaving a man in his place. «I don't want to have to find him.»
I swallowed. «I'd imagine he doesn't want you to find him either.»
«Then help me. Tell me what you know.»
«No.»
He sighed. «For one moment, forget it's me. Put aside your ego. I'm the Beast Lord. You're a
member of the Order. You're subordinate to me in this investigation. I order you to disclose the
information. Do your job.»
It stung. I was doing my job to the best of my ability. «You're mistaken. I'm not subordinate to
you. You and I are on equal footing.»
«I see. Is Jim with you now?»
«Yes, he is. We're having rough sex. You're interrupting.»
I hung up.
The phone rang again.
Answering machine. «. . . not helping, Ka . . .»
I picked up the phone, held it for a second, and hung up. I didn't want to lie to Curran. Even if it
was for his own sake. Making shit up and trading witty barbs just wasn't in me at the moment.
My bedroom was full of comfortable gloom, except for a narrow slash of light, which snuck
through the gap between my curtains to fall right on my face. I stuck a pillow on my head.
I was drifting off into dreamland, the pillow on my head blocking the annoyingly persistent ray
of light, when I heard a key turn in my lock. My door swung open.
The only person with a key to my place was the super, and he would never enter unannounced.
I forced myself to lie still, my limbs loose. Some picture I presented: my butt in white cotton
panties sticking out, my head under the pillow. Not the most advantageous fighting stance.
I lay, hyperaware, all my senses straining. Very soft footsteps approached the bed. Closer.
Closer.
Now!
I whipped about, launching a sweeping kick. It caught the intruder in the midsection, eliciting a
distinctly male groan, and he went down. I leapt off the bed and lunged for Slayer, but it wasn't
where I'd left it. I dropped and saw it far under the bed. He'd kicked it on his way down.
A steel hand grasped my ankle. I flipped on my back and hammered a kick into his shoulder that
had the entire force of my body behind it.
He groaned and I saw his face. «Curran!» I would've preferred a homicidal lunatic. Oh, wait . . .
That second of amazement cost me: he lunged at me, knocked my arm aside as if it were
nothing, and pinned me to the floor. His legs clamped mine. He held my right arm above my head,
my left between our bodies, and leaned, his face only inches from mine, my side touching his chest.